


half burned in shadow.

by embermagick



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akechi is his own downfall, Blood, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Spoilers, Violence, not very graphic but to be safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-15 18:25:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18675064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embermagick/pseuds/embermagick
Summary: it was a beautiful imagination, that he could ever abandon his revenge for love.





	half burned in shadow.

He should laugh.

It was the funniest thing to happen to the teenager, in his eighteen years of life.

A soul, tied to silver eyes and an honest smile, genuinely cared for him. Possibly even loved, if given the chance. And he had to betray it— one of the only people he had ever grown to care about.

It was so fucking funny.

The door to his apartment barely closed before a gloved hand covered his mouth, attempting to muffle the laughter spilling about. One, two steps before he held his face completely, voice bubbling out as uncontrollable laughter. Perhaps, if he searched deep, he’d feel the concern of both of himself, but he didn’t.

His entire entity was rage, red hot, mimicking lava. Red, like how his father’s blood will run, once he died at his own offspring’s hands. Red, like the color of someone’s gloves. Gloves that shone with every move, with every flourish. Even though they were fitted to his form, covered digits would tug at the gloves, as if they’d fall off. Red gloves, the only thing upon the leader’s outfit that exposed any color yet did nothing to dull out the owner.

No, but perhaps, nothing could dull out the owner. With a mask that highlighted silver eyes, much like how eyeliner would, every grin wouldn’t be able to be downplayed by anything. Everything about him was so subtle, yet demanded attention. Even outside of the metaverse, he would find himself distracted by knowledgeable eyes and carefully wrapped words. The desire to ruin him— his image, was so strong, he was sure it would consume him. The idea of wiping the grin off of the cunning and arrogant Joker, and of unravelling the calm and collected Akira. Nothing could ever be sweeter—it was euphoric, the imagination of dropping everything for him.

He never could do that.

Knees fell out from under him, laughter turning into silence as hands held his visage, hiding the expression that had cracked from his porcelain mask. The perfect detective’s body shook as his breath choked, hot tears threatening to pour over.

He wasn’t allowed any happiness, is he?

Denied the unconditional love of family, and now he’d end the one he cares for with a single shot. All because of one man, determined to ruin his life, without intention to do so. The Phantom Thieves were dangerous, after all.

Sobs ripped through his throat, echoing through the silent apartment as he curled into himself. Everything ached, from his muscles to his heart, it all burned with a dull pain. All his mind could think about was the color red. A part of him hummed in discontent, realizing a sentence that the little trickster would never utter.

( This wasn’t justice. What a laughable thought—it had to be. If it wasn’t, why would he do it? )

Time had passed, surely. Undoubtedly. Yet, as sobs died down and fingers pulled out his phone, one notification stood out. A date, from an unknown number. Gloves squeezed the technology, before throwing it towards the wall, with as much strength as the brunette could muster. Breath came in huffs, anger swirling in crimson pools. Teeth ground against each other, creating a dull ache in his jaw, crawling it’s way to his forehead. With tired eyes, hands crumbled into claws as he hissed out to no one. “Fuck you.” Venom, belonging to no gentle creature, lashed out from his words, not unlike a snake. “Fuck you— for ruining my entire life.”

Despite his eyes being tired and weary, tears gathered at the corners of them yet again, barely giving any warning before rushing down his face. Reaching up and wiping them away hastily, Goro stood up upon shaking legs, and walked over to his phone.

The screen was cracked, breaking the screen into shards. It was still usable, he found out, as he clicked upon his contacts. Scrolling down, he only stopped to click upon the one he had saved yet hadn’t interacted with in any way. The name looked up at him in a glare, spelling out as Kurusu Akira.

Broken, soft eyes stared at the picture set as the profile and forced down a choked sob. It wasn’t exactly the highest quality picture, as he didn’t exactly obtain it legally—stalking wasn’t the most legal thing, after all—but it affected him the same.

It was so easy to imagine, his bruised face, looking up at him in shock. Instead of knowing, sharp eyes, they’d be clouded with hurt, and stung with betrayal. His mind thought of red, flowing from his forehead, from a wound he inflicted.

Gloved hands shook as he curled against the wall, closing his phone and hugging it against himself. Why did it have to be him? Why couldn’t he have just been a fan, and not a Phantom Thief himself? Then maybe, just maybe, he could’ve been happy, even for a second. Even if it would be built on a lie, at least it would have structure.

At least, he wouldn’t be responsible for the death of anyone whom ever loved him.

**Author's Note:**

> i was going to make it longer but my own heart couldn't take it so.


End file.
